Res Ipsa Poker

(Ed. note: I'm slightly clairvoyant. I can sometimes see the future, but things in that future may be a little fuzzy. Like how I once told a friend of mine that she was going to get married and move to a city elsewhere in the Midwest. She ended up staying put and marrying a guy with a cat named after that other city. True story. Anyway, here's a post from the future. I'm pretty sure about this one.)

I just flew back from Australia and boy, are my arms tired.

(rim shot)

Let me tell you all about it. Here is my trip report, complete with pics!

If you've been hiding under a rock or something, you should know that the whole thing began with this amazing contest put together by some fellow bloggers and the kind and generous folks over at Full Tilt Poker. (Sentence too long, need oxygen, deep breath). If you won a select blogger-hosted tournament, you picked up a bonus entry into a "Tournament of Champions". The TOC winner garnered a sweet $18,000 package to go play the Aussie Millions - complete with entry, air, hotel, spending money, the works.

I tried, but I never won one of those tournaments. I'm not good.

Fortunately, Full Tilt also threw those of use who suck at poker a bone. You could write your way to an entry into the TOC. Even though I didn't like my chances - the English language and I don't always get along - I took a shot. You can find my entry in the archives if you're bored. Somehow, I won.

Clearly this contest was rigged. I like stuff that's rigged. Rigged is practically my middle name.

Once I had my entry into the TOC, I needed a strategy. I used to win blogger donkaments, but the players are way better than I am now. The repeated nut-shots administered by tens of thousands of hands of Pot Limit Omaha have sapped most of the aggressiveness from my game. I'm about as bold as a plate of Velveeta. I needed to re-learn how to make some moves. I needed some chili. Mmmm, chili.

Anyway, lacking the time to study or otherwise improve my game, I decided to just go all in every hand. Once things got underway, I knew I was in good shape -- after I won the first hand with 52 offsuit, a package of bacon went flying by outside my window.

Long story short, I won 42 of 51 hands in one of the briefest multi-table tournaments ever. I'd recite the losing hands in order to keep up my blogger cred, but I don't really want to pay each of you a dollar. I'm saving those for Friday night dollar rebuys. Speaking of dollar rebuys, I just got stacked again. Stupid donkeys.

Now that I had lucksacked my way into a FREE trip to Australia, I needed to get ready. Step one: Get a passport. I last used mine in 1986. The scene at the passport office was like something out of a Dickens novel. Somehow, as you are my witness, I survived.

Steps two through 27 don't need to be repeated here. I booked, I flew, I got to hang with some Full Tilt pros on the flight. We ate wings and played Chinese Poker for wet naps. I think there were a couple of beers consumed, but I don't really remember this part. I'm just glad that nobody was carrying a "Sharpie" or duct tape. Funny guys, those Full Tilt pros.

Twenty odd hours later, we arrived in Oz.

"Let's play some poker!" I exclaimed to nobody in particular.

"Shut the [censored] up willya?" was the reply. I was comforted to find a surly New Yorker behind me in the immigration queue. I felt at home in Australia already.

The Crown Casino was all it was billed to be. It had a casino and a swank hotel. I think there was a pool. If not, my apologies to whosever pool that was. Melbourne was swell, a truly cosmopolitan city with friendly people, lots to see and do, great food and a courteous constabulary. I was relieved that I'd made the correct read in leaving my body armor and personal weaponry back in Detroit.

The main event at the Aussie Millions started on Monday, January 14. 1008 donors entered, making for the largest prize pool in hemispheric history. I drew seat 2, table 7. Of course. It was about to be hammer time. I made sure to have Dr. Pauly take my picture so I could prove to my employer that I really deserved the ten days off and wasn't just sitting at home watching 'General Hospital'.

I was on edge. Raring to go. That might have been due to the vegemite eating prop bet I'd won earlier that morning. I was fired up. Time to play some aggressive poker.

The first hand I was in the small blind. I curled the cards back and saw QJ offsuit. "Those are pretty good cards!!111!" I thought. The button came in for a raise and I smelled weakness. I smooth called, a move I learned on an internet poker forum, and planned to take the pot away with a min-raise on a later street.

The flop came down A K T rainbow. Straight! That's the immortal nuts for those of you scoring at home. I bet however many red chips I had. It was a lot. To my surprise, the button called.

The turn was another A. I was pretty sure I was still good, but I bet some green chips to find out. The button called again. He looked worried. I would ordinarily be troubled by the call, but I was pretty sure that the sweat on his forehead was a tell.

The river was whatever it was. No card would have scared me at that point. I checked, inducing the button to bet. He obliged and bet all but one chip, keeping one behind so he could continue to talk to me while I was thinking. At least I think that's why he did it. I'm told that the internet kids refer to that move as a "Hoy". Or a "reverse Hoy". I forget which.

My countdown timer was running low. I had to make a decision. I went all in.

I lost.

Of course the villain had AA. What a fawking cooler.

I was the first player out and was serenaded by a hearty cheer of "Gigli, Gigli, Gigli, oi oi oi!" from the rail. I received some lovely partying gifts and had confirmed my position as the worst poker playing blogger in any hemisphere. I went off in search of a Razz game. I think that in the future I'm going to stick to online poker.

Busting out early did have some benefits. I had a chance to really enjoy Melbourne. I spent some time railtarding the better players. I learned a few things that I'm anxious to put into play at our next home game. I'm going to be the Phil Ivey of the $2 tournament scene. I also got to take a quick flight out of town for an evening with the Lost Dogs, something I never would have been able to do anywhere else.

The tournament?

The tournament. Chris Ferguson won, beating out two other Full Tilt pros at the final table, and took down the first prize of more than a million Aussie bucks. You can read all about it on the Full Tilt Blog. I recommend it. Unlike me, Michael Craig isn't afraid of gerunds and participles and stuff.